Saturday, December 07, 2019

I’m trying to grasp why I fell away from early intense efforts to draw with pen and ink and to write poetry. Once I gained self-confidence and learned to articulate verbally, those needs to draw or to write in abbreviated forms fell away. I still wrote, however, and began creating stories and articles that might capture various interests and activities. The energy needed for creativity–thinking and writing–dwindled after I took on the tangible, unending care of large animals, they really consume energy.

Each winter in darkness and chill, during stretches of staying indoors, I hope to zero in on a new or past interest and learn while passing time. This year is a little different. My sister’s recent passing seems to propel some old and distant wishes to create art and poetry. Perhaps working in abstract helps to offset feelings of loss. I went for it, augmenting my ancient pencils, chalks, and paper with fresh tools. I’d again draw and read and write poetry.

In practice yet again, fantasy has outweighed performance. Composing poems is easy and I liked my initial drafts, spent time reworking them. Meanwhile, reading the poets made me see how much my own poems missed the mark. Similarly in drawing, I created a recognizable freehand sketch of my dog, Louie, dozing in his donut bed. My efforts stopped when I felt confused about how to complete the work. Art after all is about lines, lights and shadows, and knowing how to apply color to integrate a concept.

Enlightenment may be coming. It’s from reading, “Drawing On The Right Side of the Brain”, by Betty Edwards. She asserts that anybody can draw, it’s a matter of recognizing that our brains have two sides, left and right, and knowing how to activate our less dominant and free-seeing “right side”. I could feel the effort of shifting to my right brain in order to see anew my drawing of Louie and re-read my poems.

Oh, this will be all-winter work, more to come!

Dear Friends: Pursue what you love, even if it’s difficult. Gain your wins. Diana

Friday, December 06, 2019

Proud of myself! After drafting two poems in the middle of last night. One about inner space and artistic expression; the other a tribute to Sally Bradshaw, who with me belonged to a cancer group and who recently passed away. Each poem feels to have potential but neither is ready for public reading. What’s impressive was having dived into deep feelings and writing about them. The topics seemed to pop-up as my pen began moving.

Sure, poetry is a step removed from bare-boned self-expression, and instead at its best is a formal method of self-expression. This is more clear to me after reading “A Poetry Handbook” by the American poet and Pulitzer Prize winner, Mary Oliver. Whereas before Oliver I’d have said, “Wow, great poem,” and left things there, now I’m thinking about word-music, line types, idea sounds, poetic forms, and whether to rhyme or not-rhyme.

Ideas and activities don’t brew from one source, usually a string of inputs makes some sort of new or renewed action happen. I think back years to my interests in poets–passions of long ago, and until recently, had not bothered to read a poem. But I saw a NYT article about Sarah Yerkes. At 101 years of age, she’d published a first book–of poems–after taking first-ever poetry-writing lessons. Her published book, “Days of Blue and Flame” (2019) is a wonderful read, by a retired person who’s now in assisted living, and whose younger activities were creative and intelligent.

Yerkes reflects on her life’s past accomplishments, relationships, and many then-thoughts. She replays her earlier-self against what she’s come to understand as an elderly. She’s created lovely and powerful stuff.

I’m not sure what I want to do, except perhaps learn a bit more about where I’ve come to after long trying to do my best in life. And wondering what all brings me to this point–what methods, what transitions, what losses and gains. So, I’ll keep working on my poems and attempt again to start drawing. Not much to lose, perhaps lots to gain.

Dear Friends: Have a wonderful day. Diana

Thursday, December 05, 2019

As our darkest day approaches, in early evenings as I head downhill to feed the large animals I’m captivated by the setting sun’s last rays, still glowing over the southwest Cascades. At the same time, toward the north and across from where I stand, those rays dimly and faintly reveal only one of this section’s Sisters Mountains.

Looking around and now observing more closely, I’m growing aware of how much and dramatically this lower light is affecting all surroundings. My routine sights in daily travels from house to barn and vice-versa, now seem enchantingly different.

In this uphill photo, the center tree slightly beyond the rise, years ago nearly was invisible. In those days all the trees were overgrown, their outreaching limbs tangled into a mish-mosh that obliterated a decent view up the hill. After yearning for a better view, I took a chainsaw to open space among those trees. That yielded a nice sightline and yesterday evening’s light made it more compelling.

A half-moon clear and visible boosted the light highlighting the hill.

Randomly then, I swung my camera (Canon, not cellphone) and carelessly snapped the lens. Even this unplanned photo reveals that evening’s charm and beauty.

Another quick shutter-click caught my watcher. He’s anticipating running alongside me up the hill.

I laughed and shoved my walking stick firmly in the deep snow. Louie had been anticipating that very signal, and together we started uphill toward the house.

Dear Friends: A very powerful camera captures best in this season’s dim lighting. Diana

Wednesday, December 04, 2019

Dear Friends: With many apologies, I got tied up this morning with online banking matters and have bumped against my 8 a.m. publication deadline. So, no blog today…but for sure, I’ll write tomorrow morning! All best, Diana

Tuesday, December 03, 2019

I went walking with this partner who’s fun and makes me laugh. He’s busy and curious while moving from shoulder to shoulder and even sometimes perches on my head.

His flight feathers haven’t recently been trimmed. As a neither free nor wild bird, he hasn’t fully recognized his current flight capabilities.

Walking from my driveway and down the street, I saw a distant snow plow clearing a large intersection. It seemed about to clear another street, but instead, slowly began moving into position to plow our street. I tried to decide what next to do. We could continue on and assume the giant machine and loud motor wouldn’t bother the bird. Or although having had too short a walk, we could turn back to home.

Meanwhile, that plow picked up speed and came toward us. Just then, a car entered our street and passing the plow headed toward us rapidly. At that moment, Peaches had enough. He flew from my shoulder, and flying low, managed to cross the road just ahead of the rapidly approaching car (its driver didn’t slow!). Peaches landed about 30 feet away and began walking. The snow slowed him. He quickly hopped onto my finger and then to my shoulder.

The big plow roaring toward us and getting closer surely would re-frighten Peaches. I had to avoid another attempt at flight and turned toward home. Deep snow banking the roadway prevented escaping into the terrain. My driveway was distant and I hurried more. The clueless plow driver watching me picked up his speed.

Moving as fast as my heavy boot treads and balance allowed, we managed to turn into my neighbor’s driveway and in far enough to be less bothered by that noisy bigness. Peaches stayed in place and seemed calm.

I considered taking the back way to my place (a shorter route) by wading through untrodden snow, but kicking through it consumed lots of energy. Meanwhile, out on the street, that plow was making its return and clearing in the opposite direction.

Peaches and I waited until the noise ended before retreating to our now quiet street, and toward our driveway to home.

As we decompressed I made a mental note to have Peaches’ flight wings trimmed soon. Although his ability to fly might have saved him from being hit by the passing car.

Dear Friends: This alert watchbird often first-alerts the dogs to something amiss. Diana

Monday, December 02, 2019

Currently, our temperatures are forecast to reach 41-degrees. For me the best part is having had my part-time shift cancelled. Today, the outdoors will be mine!

Peaches needs an outing and we will go walking. That’ll provide an opportunity to check with a neighbor and make sure it’s still okay for my horses to graze during daytimes on his dormant pasture.

Doing so will mean having to practice leading the horses up and down the street, to and from that pasture. Although they know the route well from our carriage days, they might see it differently without blinders and no handling from behind.

Until this year, they grazed during winters on another neighbor’s pasture, but that home recently was sold. I’ve not met the new owners who might have horses of their own. Maybe it will turn out that they haven’t plans to put horses of their own on the winter pasture.

Today, this note must remain short. It was interrupted by a too-long phone conversation.

Dear Friends: Have a great day and if appropriate in your area enjoy the warmth. Diana

Sunday, December 01, 2019

Yesterday I took this panorama in a temperature of about 7- degrees F and with bare hands operating the camera. The morning was clear, beautiful, and oddly, feeling less cold than on previous days that made my hands freeze. I didn’t use a zoom since a telephone zoom tends to pixelate photos. This has captured a range clearly, but with mountains harder to spot and identify unless one knows their locations. An obscuring factor is the clouds creating a partial overcast. But the overall result satisfies enough. I need lessons on how to use phone’s various camera settings, which have lots of potential.

I’ve considered purchasing specialty lenses for my big Canon Camera which takes superb photos but is heavy to haul around. While out hiking with the dogs, everything near and far that the Canon captures, using its self-adjusting point-and-shoot capabilities, is just about perfect. It’s oh so much easier to pull from a pocket a phone capable of producing acceptable photos. And repocketing it–for a free-handed clamour onto a rock pile with the dogs.

More from yesterday morning, prior to leaving for work and after taking care of the outside animals:

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And finally, Potash, always in-front and claiming as her own a feed bowl.

In the single-digit temperatures, I left for work leaving the dogs inside and hoping the house would “remain standing”. To be more precise, hoping my cat stayed alive, no dog tangled with Peaches, the bird cages stayed upright, and each dog remembered that he or she had been housebroken. They exceeded my expectations.

Dear Friends: Entering our darkest, shortest month before greeting a new year. Diana

Saturday, November 30, 2019

After some quiet days hanging out with the critters and watching whatever appealed on TV, I needed to turn some feelings into action. But processing many feelings is confusing and I wondered where to start. Well, the recent loss of my big sister has been significant. I considered writing about her, my feelings of connection and loss, and whatever else might also boil around about family. How does one start to write about all that?

My considerate neighbors, in a card for me, included the gift of a handwritten poem:

That’s it, I’ll write poetry! But how to write poems correctly? After all the best poems follow standard forms. Could I learn from a book? (That was item one this morning from Amazon.)

Then I got to wondering what keeps me sitting through a long and rather boring art course on the internet. It teaches drawing with colored pencils, seemingly an easy way to “just get going”. But episodes increasingly are complex. What might I draw? Could easier help come from an art book? (That was item two this morning from Amazon.)

Since this all seemed related to my big sister, I’d let such thoughts settle and wait for the new books.

I turned to the morning newspapers. An article in the Washington Post by an eminent sociologist caught my attention (a link to the story will follow). She asserts that societies weren’t originally designed for people living as long as we do, and so societies need changing. Humans have increasing needs but diminishing resources and these are forcing “a major redesign of life”. What she brings to forefront is much that’s begun to roil in our collective brains. (Item three this morning was her new book from Amazon.)

I’ve loved old musical movies, as did my big sister, but she was bunches-up, watching, rewatching, and memorizing movies. For nearly every musical, she could cite music, lyrics, dance steps, acrobatics, and everything about actors and athletes. Today, the WaPost reviewed a new book, “The Movie Musical” by Jeanine Basinger. Oh, why not. (Item four this morning from Amazon.)

My interests, while always alive, are casual in areas like writing, drawing, sociology, and movie musicals. Periodically, during spurts of increased interest, I’ve gone ahead and pursued or ignored urges to learn more. Today’s high interests, while associated to my big sister, extend even beyond her–to our mother, who also loved movies, music, dance, and books.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/we-need-a-major-redesign-of-life/2019/11/29/a63daab2-1086-11ea-9cd7-a1becbc82f5e_story.html?fbclid=IwAR3ZD67VZntVfqmAqlG7uHOEqA66scqRhrRaM0aS1MDzW75OhYPMA1a_xic

Dear Friends: Rediscovering myself as an inheritor of tradition, and as an individual. Diana

Friday, November 29, 2019

Yesterday our heavy snows stopped. After dumping horse hay on the white stuff, I transitioned to the house and through a window kept an eye on them. In 22-degree temperature their extra hay will help their “furnaces” keep working efficiently. In the coldest weather, human fingers buried deep into a fuzzy coat finds a warmth that winter gloves can’t match. In frigid weather my too-cold fingers often need normalizing. Unless there’s nearby a fuzzy horse, I enter the barn and rub my hands under an ultraviolet light that thaws and renews flexing.

After finishing with the horses, I entered the goat pen. The twins although eager to eat weren’t about to step away from their shelter and into snow. Nor were the chickens. There wasn’t a footprint of any kind in the snow.

I kicked a path toward the shelter and filled the goats’ feed bucket. Without mama goat’s presence the balance of power has shifted, and now, I saw Breeze successfully butting Poppy from the feed bowl.

Luckily, I found another feed bucket so they could eat separately–a first.

Once the goats got the hang of a second dish, they kept changing bowls to make sure neither had anything better. And still they butted heads, but Poppy got a fair share.

The biggest winner in the deal was Potash. She rouses herself earlier than the other hens and dashing from bowl to bowl dined with each goat.

Ah creatures, so lovely!

Dear Friends: Hoping you had a lovely holiday, and now, are shopping wisely. Diana

Thursday, November 28, 2019

Thanksgiving Day and bunches of this season’s first snow. About eight inches (and higher drifts) fell on my neighborhood in a 24-hour stretch. Yesterday morning, wearing short boots that lacked cleats, I waded down to feed the horses, dragging my feet through deep snow and lifting freezing clouds of it to my ankles and inside my boots. Later, upon returning to the barn to release horses, I wore knee-high and cleated boots.

This snow weighed heavy on my mood. I needed to snow-blow paths and my driveway, but doing so would mean having to start the darned machines for a first time this year. In my experience, it’s taken visits from repairman Mike to get them going. In this weather, he’d probably already be too busy.

I decided to stop worrying and just chill out.

I hunkered into an easy chair for a long visit with thousands of episodes of “The Good Wife”. Sometime later, Miles’ barking aroused me from a doze. He continued muttering and I let him out before returning to Hulu. When Peaches began screaming, clearly something unusual was happening. I went to Peaches’ window. Way over by the driveway, Miles stood barking, but oddly, wagging his tail in a friendly way. That seem odd, so I entered the garage and peered through a window.

A bundled-up person who could only have been my neighbor, Frank, was snow-blowing my parking area! I grabbed a jacket, went outside. He’d cleared my long driveway!

Frank laughed, said he was out snow-blowing anyway. He pointed over to where our neighbor was driving a plow and clearing our roadway and said, “It’s what neighbors do!”

That’s when I got moving, bundled-up, and then uncovered my newest snowblower, stored as Mike directed–it’s gas tank full and with preservative. The electric starter (as anticipated) didn’t kick-in the motor. I tried and tried, and anyway, shuffled my feet downhill to the barn where stood waiting an ancient Craftsman Snowblower. This machine, after passing through several families, years ago came to me. It’s reasonably dependable, and yesterday didn’t fail, started right up.

Once you start snowblowing, it becomes addictive. An instant success, it creates channels of cleared snow and makes walking much easier. Mine blew its way around the barn and over to the horses, and then uphill to the house and on around the acreage, creating passages in several directions. Instant gratification and fun! Thanks to Frank, for clearing snow and helping me get going. And thanks to another snow-clearing neighbor for snow-plowing our county road and making it passable.

Next, we’ll be visited by a County snow-plow. It’ll re-clear and create berm-piles at the ends of residential driveways. Afterwards, few of us will be able to exit properties without first snow-blowing through those berms.

Anyway, about an hour after the initial failed starts, my newest snowblower did manage to snort up and slowly rumble itself into an idle. Will point it to a berm!

Dear Friends: Wishing you a Thanksgiving of friendship, love, and warmth! Diana